


Harry Potter and the Post Traumatic Stress

by PagesInAChapter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, Deathly Hallows, Fluff, I'm sure lots of people have written this already but oh well, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:13:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24162631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PagesInAChapter/pseuds/PagesInAChapter
Summary: Carry On and Steven Universe both gave us things that Harry Potter did not: The main character just trying to survive after their respective wars. Harry Potter, instead, skipped almost two decades and gave us the ending most of us didn't really ask for.Thankfully I'm bored, quarantined, and salty.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Harry Potter and the Post Traumatic Stress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sterek_Always](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sterek_Always/gifts).



**May 2nd, 1998**

Harry had felt so victorious, defeating Voldemort and returning the elder wand to Dumbledore's resting place once and for all. He'd done it. Finally, after all these years, this lifetime of pain and torture and heartache, it was over. Harry James Potter had been victorious.

He wasn't feeling so victorious now.

Still hidden under the invisibility cloak (he wasn't ready to face everyone yet) Harry moved, limping and stumbling from the exhaustion, through the crowd in the great hall. He was looking... he was looking for... There. There. A huddle of red hair, holding each other in freckled arms as if the touch was the only thing keeping them alive. Harry bit his lip, hard, to keep the tears from falling, and edged closer to see the cause of the Weasley family's grief.

George was lying on the floor, his face buried in the hair of his brother. He looked... peaceful, and Harry quickly saw why. The young man had cried himself to sleep, surrounded by bodies, holding the only one who had truly been there for him. The only one who really mattered. Molly Weasley stood above him, a blank look in her eyes. She was pointing a shaky hand at the twins, wand out, whispering "Riddikulus, riddikulus," until she was sobbing too desperately to speak.

Harry looked then, really looked, at Fred. At his too-still face, his bruised eyelids. His mouth, closed in a permanent expression of peace. The mouth that would never laugh again.

-

"Harry? Harry!" Harry could hear someone calling his name. Hermione? Maybe. His ears weren't working too well. Maybe he'd deafened himself with the screaming.

It had all been too much. Harry didn't remember running, but the next thing he knew after touching Fred's cold cheek, he was on his knees in the Quidditch pitch, screaming and screaming until he thought his lungs would burst. Now, he was curled up on the grass in a ball, agonised sobs tearing his throat.

Soft hands, shaking with adrenaline, rested against his shoulders. "Harry, Harry, please, it's me, it's Hermione, it's okay. It'll be okay."

Hermione. Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, his best friend, a slice of his trio. He scrambled, tangling his fingers in her hair, and rested his head on her shoulder. "I want to go home, 'Mione."

Hermione shook her head a little and adjusted her position, grunting a little as she pulled Harry onto her lap. Despite the hardships, he wasn't the lightest boy in the world. "I know."

Neither of them pointed out that Harry did not have a home. Neither did Hermione.

As such, when people began to drift home, when parents came running to the school to collect their crying or silent children, Harry and Hermione went to Molly and Arthur Weasley. 

They looked older, frailer, holding each other for support. It took Molly barely a second to understand the request. She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course dears. There’s always a place for you in the Burrow, you— you know that.”

-

It didn’t go so well. The second the family arrived at the Burrow George took off, grabbing his broom and heading right out the door. Percy made a hesitant step, as if to follow, but shook his head and sighed.

“We have to leave him alone for a bit, if that’s what he wants.” He said simply. “He’ll be very torn up for a long time.” 

“Oh leave off it, Perc!” Ron exploded. Tears were sizzling on his cheeks, red and burning with anger. “We’re all torn up! Even you! We saw you holding him, don’t you dare act like you’re better than us for not showing it now!”

In his despair he flung out a hand, wand still clenched in his fist, and dishes flew from The kitchen to shatter against the wall. Glassy-eyed, Molly shuffles forward as if to clean but paused, frozen, at the Weasley family clock. Lying on the ground beneath it, having fallen from the face, was Fred’s hand. Molly covered her mouth with her hands and sank to her knees, right there amongst the glass and china.

**May 4th, 1998**

It took a day and a half of building courage for Harry to finally visit Andromeda Tonks. Ron hadn’t come. He’d stayed with his family, a necessary act. They’d lost a son; they needed everyone to stay in the house for a while. George included, though he’d been shut up in his room since his return.

Hermione hadn’t come either. She’d elected to stay at Ron’s side, reasoning that Harry needed some time alone with his godson. She had sat him down before he left, explained that this would be good for him. So much grief and pain was taking over him right now, being with Teddy and Andromeda would help him focus. Hopefully.

And so Harry found himself alone at the front door of Andromeda Tonks’ house, one hand raised to knock. A baby was crying inside. Maybe he should just leave them alone.

Before he had a chance to turn around the door flung open, and there stood Andromeda, holding a wailing baby with bubblegum pink hair in her arms. “He won’t stop crying.” She said, clearly holding back tears herself. “Take him, please. I have biscuits in the oven.”

The baby was a lot heavier than Harry expected. For a moment Teddy quietened, hopeful, but one look at Harry’s face sent him back into his meltdown. The few tufts of hair Teddy had we’re shifting wildly between hot pink and soft, tawny brown.

“I get it.” Harry said softly. “Really, I do. But they’re not comic back. They’re _never_ coming back.”

An inhuman cry crawled it’s way up his throat but he forced it down. Now was not the time to react. Not now, not while he was holding Teddy. Harry sighed and held his godson close, cradling him in one arm and dragging his other sleeve across his face. 

“We’re gonna get through this together, you and me.” Harry planted a kiss on Teddy’s forehead, and with a soft hiccup, Teddy grabbed Harry’s cheeks with his tiny, starfish-shaped hands. A toothless grin, maybe the first one in days, broke out across his face like the sun after a storm.

-

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting huddled together on the couch later that evening. For the first time Harry could remember, the Weasleys had fumbled through ordering a volume of pizza and were sitting around the living room, eating slices from the box. 

On the other end of the couch Molly And Arthur held each other, not really focused on the idle conversation happening between Bill, Charlie, and Percy. Fleur and Ginny day together on the floor in silence, nodding when they thought it was appropriate. Eventually, the talking trailed.

Harry woke up... he wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d fallen asleep. Everyone around him was sleeping, still in the positions they’d been eating dinner in, almost as if under a curse. Harry presses two fingers against his scar anxiously, instinctively, and stood up, untangling himself from Ron and Hermione. What had woken him?

There it was again. A reedy wail, the breaking of glass. Like a spell fired from a wand Harry was racing towards the sound, throwing himself full force at the bedroom door to slam it open.

On the floor was George, covered in blood and sparkling bits of glass. He was sitting upright, staring at his bleeding hands in his lap. Even when Harry grabbed him by the shoulders, shouting his name, George didn’t look up.

“The mirrors.” He said miserably. “I– I thought... I couldn’t...”

And so the broken mirrors, shattered In George’s grief, were discarded, and the rest hidden behind sheets, lest George see his reflection in the corner of his eye.

**June 21st, 1998**

The trio stood on the platform. Ron was still in his pyjamas. Harry had put some fresh clothes on, but his hair had gotten so long it was falling in his eyes. In Harry's arms was Teddy, wearing a little pink and white onsie. He looked around in fascination, occasionally pointing and gurgling at people.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Ron asked gruffly. "Nobody would blame you if you didn't."

"Of course I'm sure. I'm not going to be the first one in my family to drop out of school! My parents would be furious!" Hermione stood next to them, dressed impeccably in uniform, bushy hair scraped back into a ponytail. Next to the boys she looked perfect, capable of anything. Harry knew the truth, though, he could see the tremor in Hermione's hand as she tugged at her skirt. Ron could see it too. The pair exchanged a glance, before Ron pressed a gentle kiss to Hermione's cheek.

"I'm so proud of you. You'll ace those exams. I love you."

Hermione gave a fleeting smile and kissed him back on the mouth, throwing her arms around his neck. "I love you too. Thanks for believing in me."

Ron blushed. Teddy giggled and clapped his hands excitedly, reaching out in hopes of a Hermione cuddle, but the train whistle blew at that moment and Hermione glanced up.

"Take care of Crookshanks!" Amid the stares and whispers of younger students, Hermione hugged each of them in turn and dashed onto the waiting train. In seconds she had found a place and was pressed against the window, waving frantically even as the train chugged away from the station and out of sight.

Harry and Ron simply stood in the train's wake, pretending not to notice the other witches and wizards sneaking glances. Neither of them wanted to move. The idea of heading back to the Burrow without Hermione, after spending every waking and sleeping moment together since the battle, was almost inconceivable. And yet, as the crowds began to disperse and the pair headed out to the entrance to the station, seeing Arthur Weasley waiting outside in the car almost brought a smile to their faces. Almost.

**May 2nd, 2004**

Harry shot upright in bed, his throat hoarse from screaming.

Ginny raced into the room, holding newborn James in her arms, adding his own voice to the din. "Harry! Harry! I's okay, love, look around! Here, hold this."

Holding his son made it... easier. The warmth, the weight, it brought Harry back to the present. Letting out a shaky breath, he took Ginny's hand gently in his own and pulled her down on the bed with him, adjusting his own position so James could see both parents. At the sight, the baby stopped crying and smiled.

"I'm sorry." Harry said, resting his head on Ginny's shoulder. "I woke up and... and you weren't there. I thought... I heard his voice, I saw your journal...."

"Is uncle Harry having nightmares again?" There was Teddy at the door with Ruby. The Labrador retriever was whining anxiously, hurrying to Harry's side and resting her head on his lap. Harry ruffled her ears absently. Getting an emotional support dog had been a good idea, Ruby generally kept him pretty focused on his surroundings both at home and at work. When he had nightmares, she would get up on the bed and wake him up with a cuddle. Why hadn't she this morning....?

Ginny clearly had the same idea. "Ted, you know you're not supposed to keep Rudy locked in your room. She's Harry's."

"But I love her though." Teddy stubbornly wrapped his arms around Ruby's neck. Sensing that affection was happening without him, James crawled to the end of the bed and flopped forward onto Teddy's shoulders. Wincing, Ginny hauled him back by the back of his shirt before he could topple over the side.

"Come on boys!" Ginny said, placing James on the floor. "Let's go make pancakes! How's that sound?"

Laughing, Harry swung himself out of bed and stretched his arms above his head, banishing the lingering tendrils of the nightmare from his mind. "Sounds good to me! We're meeting the others in the park later today for Vicky's birthday, don't forget. We'll bring pancakes for the picnic."

-

The entire family was there. Mostly Weasleys, but the entire family nonetheless. Andromeda Tonks was chatting warmly to Arthur. Hermione's parents were sitting on either side of their daughter nervously, clearly not willing to let her out of her sight. Harry figured that, since they'd only come back from Australia two months ago, this was justified. Ron was chatting to his George nearby, playing a patty-cake game with Fred Junior. And... and was that...

"Draco?" Harry said in disbelief. Draco looked up at the sound of his name and cringed a little.

Molly, motherly as ever, beamed. "We bumped into him on the way here. It's alright if he joins us." Not a question. A statement. Harry nodded quickly and sat down, exchanging baby James with baby Dominique with Bill.

"Teddy!" Victoire, suddenly noticing the arrival of Harry and Ginny's little family, crash tackled the young metamorphmagus, who immediately shifted into an almost-accurate copy of Victoire with a mischievous cackle.

Bill and Fleur, watching their daughter, smiled warmly and leant into each other. It was touching, almost too personal for Harry to watch. He looked away, stroking Ruby's head to ground himself as his thoughts drifted.

"Potter?"

Draco stood above Harry, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He looked wary. Ginny glanced between him and Harry and stood up, stretching. "I'll leave you two alone for a moment."

The second Ginny had gone to talk to the rest of the family Draco took her place, tucking his legs under him as if to seem smaller and less threatening. He took a breath. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, for everything that happened at school."

Harry stared. "That's– that's it? That's all you wanted to say?" There was a silence for a moment before Harry started laughing. "It took you _six years_ to apologise?"

"Didn't think you'd want to see me." Draco muttered. "I was a prick, I see that now. It's not an excuse, but my parents... I'm learning to be a better person, right? I'm not asking for a chance or anything, I just wanted you to know. And... and happy anniversary. If it can be called happy."

"Oi! We're doing cake!" Ron shouted. Harry cast a quick, sad smile to Draco and punched him lightly in the shoulder. It wasn't forgiveness, exactly, but it was hope. 

May Second, a haunted day, a cursed day, no longer held the memories of death and exhaustion and tired celebration. Now, the day– for the extended family at least– was one of love and happiness and congratulations. With time, maybe the memories of the past would fade, replaced with many birthday parties like this one.

Victoire blew out her candles, and the smoke dissipated in the air.


End file.
